Beautifully Undone
by Dr FooFoo
Summary: Nick is what Greg needs. Wants. Whatever. [NickGreg]


Title: Beautifully Undone  
Author: Dr FooFoo  
Fandom: CSI  
Pairing: Nick/Greg  
Rating: PG-13  
Feedback: Review or e-mail (in profile)  
Notes: Sorry. x.x

* * *

Greg takes a step, half-expecting Nick to move aside and let him into his house like he used to. But Nick doesn't move and when Greg looks up at him, his jaw is set and his eyes have a... something, behind them. Greg's not sure if it's sadness, or anger, or even pity, but it's there. Greg's smile fades into an expression he hopes isn't a pout, but he knows it's close.

"Nick, please help me..." he says quietly, and he knows it's a low blow, because he knows Nick will always help when someone's in trouble, but he also knows that right now, he's no where near above a low blow, and he'll do whatever it takes to get Nick back again. Nick's shaking his head, though, and looking down at the ground like a guilty little boy, and Greg knows he's not going to get what he needs. Wants. Whatever.

That's one of the reasons this whole issue started - Nick said Greg didn't know what he wanted from their relationship, and when Greg had said all he needed was Nick, Nick had shaken his head and bit his lip, saying Greg didn't need him, he just wanted him. Greg frowns at the memory and stares at Nick in the doorway, watching the creases around his eyes deepen and the wrinkles in his forehead become more pronounced. At the moment, Nick looks like an exhausted old man, and Greg feels a little pang of guilt at the fact that he's probably the one who caused it.

But then again, he can't feel too guilty. Nick was the one who left. Nick was the one who disappeared without a trace except a small, scrawled note on a post-it explaining he was going to be staying at his house from now on. He didn't even leave a phone number, and Greg bites his lip as he remembers calling Nick's cell phone and getting directed to his voicemail. Nick always picks up his cell phone. Always. Except he has call display, and that thought makes Greg shake outside Nick's door now. Nick still hasn't moved, and he still looks a little lost and maybe even uncertain.

Greg watches every change in expression, every flinch, every movement that Nick makes. He memorized Nick's body a long time ago, but now, suddenly, he feels like it's slipping away and he has to fight to keep from tearing Nick's clothes off, just to get one last look at him. He doesn't know why he even showed up at Nick's place tonight anyway. After it sunk in that Nick had left him and wasn't coming back, Greg had cried for hours, sulking gloomily around his apartment and at work. Sara had called him a couple times to ask what the matter was, but he'd just said he had food poisoning and she got the message that he didn't want to talk about it.

When Grissom called him on it, though, Greg knew he needed to get over it and stop thinking about Nick. He even made a pact with himself that he wasn't going to think about Nick for at least an hour. He said he'd move it up to a day and eventually a week if he could get through one hour, but addictions that strong are near impossible to overcome, and Greg thinks maybe that's why he's shifting from foot to foot outside of Nick's door now, considering what to do next.

Nick looks up suddenly, eyes damp, and his nostrils flare as he sniffles pathetically, carefully avoiding looking at Greg. Greg can't stand that Nick's too embarrassed to cry in front of him, though, so he reaches out and touches his cheek gently, rubbing his thumb across day-old stubble. Nick doesn't react at first, so Greg leans forward, taking a step, and pressing his lips to Nick's. He's been so deprived of this, and when Nick turns his head slightly to kiss back, Greg nearly melts into his arms. Before he can do that, though, Nick turns away and puts a hand on Greg's chest, pushing him backwards slightly.

"Greg..." he says quietly, voice husky with the threat of oncoming sobs. He drops his hand from Greg's chest and balls his hands into fists, visibly shaking with the effort of holding back tears. "Go home..."

He turns slowly and trudges back into his house, closing the door behind him without looking back, and all Greg can do is stare at the light brown wood, and the golden knocker, rusted from underuse, and the little peephole, and god, now he's even trying to memorize Nick's front door. He doesn't remember when he became so desperate, but he thinks it was somewhere in between floating on air and having his heart crushed into pieces.

Turning from the house, Greg walks carefully back towards his car and, in his mind, starts the timer again.


End file.
